Category: Notes

There are very distinct phases in learning a language. Before that, there are different objectives. One can learn a language to be able to order a cup of coffee at an international airport. One can, on the other hand, learn a language to be able to read and understand its highest manifestation, that is, its literature. In the latter case, there are well-defined stages, of varying lengths, and of different assimilation profiles. The first and essential step in learning any language is to listen to it, to be able to feel its phonetics. This step involves replicating the phonemes in one’s own mouth, to be able to reproduce them in mind when reading. Here it is very valid to be unaware of the graphic representation of what is being spoken, so that the brain does not get in the way of learning. Here, too, one finds pleasure in overcoming the small initial difficulties of assimilating the new phonemes and new words. Then comes the next phase, which consists of contact with texts. Already knowing the sound and meaning of many words, one must discover how they are spelled and move on to other particularities of the language. A difficulty that, at first, seems great, is quickly overcome with a few weeks of contact with texts and, after assimilating a small number of words, it is possible to jump to the next stage. To be more precise: the mastery of the main verbs, generally irregular (to be, to have), plus one verb from each regular declension of the language (obviously, mastering their personal and temporal desinences) and the main pronouns (personal, demonstrative, possessive, interrogative and relative)—with this, it is possible to force way into texts of little linguistic complexity, that is, journalistic, scientific, philosophical and similar. In this new stage, too, an apparently great initial difficulty is quickly overcome with a few weeks of contact with the texts and assimilation of new words. When the reading begins to flow and, consequently, to deliver pleasure; when the naive brain begins to believe that the language is very simple and not at all challenging, then it is time to move on to the next stage, the most terrible, frustrating and time-consuming one, the stage that airport polyglots do not even dream of existing and that consists, basically, in the transition to literary texts. It is amazing how the little sandcastle collapses all at once. The periods that used to be magically connected are now impenetrable. The pleasure of reading not only disappears, but turns into distress and wear and tear. Every line, a dictionary lookup, and therefore the thread of the narrative gets lost, one time after the other, making it impossible to assimilate paragraphs. At this stage, if the student opts for comprehension of the text, he will probably eventually throw in the towel. If, on the other hand, he goes ahead even if he does not fully understand what he reads, if he forces his brain to proceed through the inscrutable, imposing rhythm on the incomprehension, then he forces it to assimilate something. If it continues for many dozens of hours, reading and rereading, always forcing the flow of the reading, even if it thinks the activity is stupid and useless, then he witnesses the magic of learning. The brain, whipped, transforms the tiny individual assimilations into a giant pile that, all together, after many hours of anguish, enables him to understand the language at a level that even natives are sometimes incapable of. Then he can be proud and say: “I learned it”.